Mr. ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. I want to but I cannot! Please accept that!” She yelled.
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